There Are Worse Things Than Death
by nectere13
Summary: Margaery Tyrell remembers many lives before this one, and tries to navigate the Game of Thrones as best she can with the lessons from the women she used to be. Robb Stark never wanted to be King in the North, or remember his past lives, but he does what he must while trying to put it out of his mind. Fate has Sansa Stark, and a plan.
1. Chapter 1

**I swear I'm almost done the next chapter of The Queen Gambit, but this bunny got in my head and wouldn't leave. Enjoy. **

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><p>When Margaery met Lady Stark it felt as though her stomach had fallen to her feet. She had known, of course, it was impossible for it to be anyone else uniting the North, but she had prayed to all the gods she had ever known that it would not be so. For once, her quick summer smiles failed her and she had to force one onto her mouth as Renly, <em>her husband<em>, introduced her. "You are very welcome here, Lady Stark." She declared, and meant every word, even though they twisted the knife in further. "I am so sorry for your loss." She knows, better than anyone, the grief of losing one you love. She's gone through it more than once. When Renly promised Catelyn Joffrey's head, Margaery had to fight not to look away. 

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><p><em>The red sands of Dorne, heat prickly in her throat, blood of battle sticky on her skin as she swings the sword with all her power to see justice done. She wants to have vengeance even more than justice.<em>

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><p>She shook her chestnut curls slightly, fighting to clear her mind of the memory that is not hers, but is hers, just as the woman in the memory is not her, but Margaery remembers. Margaery always remembers. When she blinked back to the green-grey of Bitterbridge, everything seemed flatter, and she knew it wasn't because of the many colors of Dorne. She wanted to upbraid Loras for challenging Catelyn, who looks at her so sternly, but she couldn't. When Renly walked off with Lady Stark, she felt more lost and adrift than she would have liked. She wanted a great many things, but for once in this life, she had no idea how to get them.<p>

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><p>She tried again to make her way into Renly's bed, only to be rebuffed by excuses again. Not that she was in any way surprised. Love had a hold on her husband and king, and it wasn't love for her. Sometimes she wished she could love him, or even that he could love her, but such thoughts feel like betrayal on many levels. She knew she needed to give him a child, and wished that she could explain to him that if she died in childbirth, he could be free, free to love whomever he wished in the guise of perpetual mourning. Dying in childbirth is a good way to die, but she couldn't explain that, even though she dreamed of it that night in her cold bed.<p>

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><p><em>Smalfolk have no Maesters like the noble houses, so she expected none. The midwives are gentle, though, more gentle than they have to be. She's weak and she knows it, sent away from her House in disgrace, weaker than she should be from lack of food. Her fingernails press into her hands as the pains wrack her, and she screams for <em>him_ in her sobs, even though she knows he won't find her. _

_"I want to hold him." She demands, voice weaker than the words themselves. The midwives are too focused on trying to stop the bleeding to bother to argue, and she feels purely happy for one long moment that might be a minute or an hour as her eyes close._

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><p>Renly is dead, and she felt worse for her brother than she did for herself. She didn't love Renly, and Loras loved him deeply. She knew that wound would not heal. Unable to help herself, she stole away to Lady Catelyn's tent, hoping against all hope.<p>

"Lady Stark," she said with a curtsy. "May I come in?"

Catelyn was busy packing, now that there was no Renly to ally with, but raised an eyebrow in surprise at Renly's young, doe-eyed queen. She seemed good-hearted, as much a queen of summer as Renly was a king. "It is your tent, my lady, you merely allowed me to use it."

Margaery smiled and entered the tent, but she could not help the sadness in her eyes. "I would say you may use it as long as you wish, Lady Stark, but I know there is no reason for you to be here now."

"I must get back to my son." Catelyn replied, as much answer as reasoning. "I am sorry for your loss, Lady Margaery."

"Of course." Margaery answered, trying to smile. "Renly had no great love for me, Lady Catelyn, he wedded me solely for my father's men, and left me a maiden yet." She looked away. "Your son could use more fighters against the Lannisters, could he not?" She swallowed slightly. "You could take the Tyrell force with you."

Catelyn was more startled by this offer than she should have been. Mace Tyrell had always been ambitious, perhaps his daughter had inherited that. "My son is already promised to wed a daughter of Walder Frey, Lady Margaery. He must do his duty."

Margaery managed to keep her face from crumpling. "I would not need a marriage, Lady Stark. Our men are loyal to me."

Catelyn was startled by that offer and blinked. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the girl, obviously afraid of her next match, but shook her head. "Renly may have left you a maid, Lady Margaery, but a war camp is no place for one. I'm sorry." She pretended not to hear the soft catch of breath as Lady Tyrell turned and left the tent.

Margaery knew that Catelyn wasn't saying she wasn't good enough, she was speaking about family, honour and duty. Catelyn was a Tully after all. It still felt like a rejection, and she had heard those before.

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><p><em>Her cheeks were flushed red as her roses as the King in the North laughed at the serious envoy. <em>

_"A steward's daughter?" The king hooted in amusement, laughing. "For my son?"_

_"Your second son, Your Grace." Her father replied, flushed with embarrassment. _

_The King of Winter lost all his good humor. "_My second son_ is still a prince. Come back when your master has a daughter who needs wed, steward."_

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><p>King's Landing is bright and bustling compared to Bitterbridge, but she found some little joy in it. Walking in the city, buying wares at market, playing with the children who had lost so much, all of it helped pass the time between meetings with Joffrey, who is every bit the monster she had feared. Still, she had her duty. There is always duty.<p>

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><p><em>"I took a vow." He tells her, garbed all in black. <em>

_"You're an idiot!" She shoots back, all rage._

_"I was needed!" He defends himself._

_"I needed you! Hang the Others! Hang the Watch!" She spits, turning away to hold on to the anger. "You swore other vows too." She blinks back. "They obviously mean less." It goes unsaid, but the 'I mean less,' makes her tongue taste acrid. Of course she means less than his kingdom, even if it isn't his responsibility._

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><p>Sansa is sweet, and in some ways that hurt more than the rest of it. It is as much for herself as it is for him, the day she washed Sansa's hair in herbs to dull the color to a brown, and wrapped Sansa in one of her Tyrell green gowns. Margaery draped her own maiden cloak over the girl's shoulders, kissed her cheek, and handed her the rose gold locket she had taken from Renly's camp before coming to King's Landing.<p>

"Your name is Leona Fossoway of Cider Hall, your father is Onan Fossoway, your mother Tyche Ladybright of Dorne, your words are A Taste of Glory." She instructed her, firmly. "You go down to the marketplace, Ser Garth is waiting for you, he has a wagon heading north to supply Tyrell soldiers with food and arms. Once you get to camp, see Loras. He'll get you further. Show him the locket if he doesn't believe you."

Sansa wanted to thank her, but she hated to leave when Margaery was where she had been not that long ago...only worse. "Margaery, your shoulder is bleeding." She didn't mention the bruises. She knew well enough what the bruises were from. Joffrey didn't exactly hide his discipline, and Margaery had perfected submission without losing her strength, as their marriage had went on, her dresses had crept up in the neck and back, while crawling down her arms.

Margaery almost cursed after looking where Sansa eyes had been, which informed her that the dressing had either slipped or been bled through. "It's nothing to worry about, Sansa." She lied and almost wished she could stomach wrapping herself in Lannister crimson to hide the blood better.

"What happened?" Sansa asked, refusing to give it up.

Margaery resisted the urge to sigh, mostly because it would make the wound hurt more. "A rose blooms monthly, my dear Sansa. Joffrey...was hoping it was not so."

Sansa winced as if her shoulder was the one bleeding. "Come with me, Margaery. My brother...he'd protect you."

Margaery hugged the girl, despite the dull ache where the crossbow bolt had gone through her shoulder. "Your brother has one Rose Queen in his court, there is no room for two." She smiled. "Besides, I am not so easy to conceal. By morning all the City Watch and half the Kingsguard would be after us. You go. I'll be fine."

"He'll behead you for treason if he finds out you helped me escape!" Sansa half-pleaded, frantic for her one friend in King's Landing.

Margaery gave her a wan smile. "There are worse things than death, Sansa." She pulled on all her courage. "Now _go_."


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa barely spoke until the border of the Riverlands, where the kind Ser Garth had allowed her to remain silent, and never even asked for payment or why she was pretending to be his sister. Loras believed them easily enough, but as Loras rode beside her on his flower-bedecked palfrey, she worried her lip. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, quietly. Her brother was fighting a war for her and the rest of their family. Loras had stayed in King's Landing to see Margaery married and then left with the next round of troops sent to the battlefield. He had to know what Joffrey was like, he had to have seen enough while in the Red Keep to know what Margaery was going through. Why take her to her brother, and abandon his own sister? Loras was supposed to be better, one of the few knights that still believed in helping damsels and chivalry, but he had left Margaery to Joffrey.

Loras glanced up at her, surprised and yet solemn. "Because this is the only thing Margaery will let me do for her."

That made Sansa pause. "What do you mean? She won't let you save her?"

Loras shook his head. "Right after the wedding she sent me off, so I could fulfill my vow to avenge…" He trailed off. "Stannis killed someone I loved. I swore I would kill him. By the time Joffrey turned on her, I was too far away, just like she planned. She knew I'd kill him or die in the attempt."

Sansa turned that around in her head, admitting to herself, if not to Loras, that a vow of avenging a loved one made all the difference. Still, she couldn't think of her father racing to help her Aunt Lyanna or Robb trying to save her and Arya without wondering who it had been Loras loved. Stannis, by all accounts, was no Joffrey, but perhaps all people pursuing the Iron Throne became monsters.

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><p>Robb Stark didn't like being a king. Unlike Stannis and Joffrey, he had no desire to be a king. All he had ever wanted was his family surrounding him at Winterfell. His men, however, deserved freedom as much as his sister did, so despite his misgivings he became the King in the North. A crown and power was not enough to make him happy. They were only means to an end. He would do what was best for his kingdom, even if it was what was worse for him. That's what Starks always did. They put others before themselves.<p>

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><p><em>He had been living happily in Winter Town, like a normal man instead of a prince, in a normal cottage with a warm fire and a makeshift bed of furs that wasn't as grand as one would find in Winterfell, but not as lonely. Then came the bannermen.<em>

_"Your Majesty, there was an attack, your parents and brother are dead. You are the King of Winter." The eldest spoke, one who had known him since he was a boy. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." The knight looked down his nose at the woman in the midst of serving their dinner. "I'm sure your paramour can keep her own house without a prince."_

_He wanted to yell at him, but grief and duty stopped his words. His family was dead. His family needed him now. It wasn't his fault his father had not allowed them to marry, but now he was king and not just a spare. He had to leave, and even though it broke his heart, he could not turn back._

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><p>One of Robb's young bannerman walked into the tent where the Young Wolf was discussing his latest battle plans with his men, interrupting as quietly as he could, partially due to the large direwolf by the young king's side. "Your Grace, a southron knight has been brought into camp with a young woman, he swears he has brought Princess Sansa to you from King's Landing."<p>

Robb's eyes widened at that, and turned to Greatjon. "Fetch my mother, we'll see what this knight has to say. He should be grateful, but his stomach was turning. This seemed all too easy.

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><p><em>He was pacing the hall like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair at odd intervals when he could take the strain no longer. There was dread like a knot in his stomach, ever since they had said they had found her. His hyperactive senses heard the horses outside and he rushed to courtyard to see a broken body being dragged on boards dark with blood.<em>

_He heard the scream but didn't realize it came from his throat._

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><p>Sansa hardly recognized her brother when he appeared from one of the tents, and it took everything she had not to fall from the horse in her haste. She was further startled into stillness when the lack of recognition in his eyes punched her in the gut.<p>

"And you are?" Robb asked, looking at the knight, not trying to hide his disdain for the flowery knight.

"Ser Loras Tyrell." Loras replied, sitting up straighter. "My sister has asked me to see your sister to you."

"And why would the wife of an incestous baseborn king want to do that?" Robb asked, refusing to even look at the girl claiming to be Sansa.

"Stop it, Robb!" Sansa yelled, getting down from her horse as Loras seemed ready to puff up in defense of his sister. "She's my friend!" She tried to keep her voice even, but the grief crept in despite herself. "Joffrey _shot_ her, and Margaery _still_ risked her life to send me back. He'll behead her for treason if he _suspects_ she helped me." She wiped her cheeks and took a shuddering breath, giving a strangled little laugh. "You were right, you know. He is a right royal prick."

"Sansa." Robb said, finally looking at her, and past the strange brown hair. He hugged her tightly.

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><p><em>He may not have the life he wanted, or the love he wanted, but if nothing else, he has his family, not whole, not complete, but enough that while he might have regrets, he puts them away and locks them up, smiling instead.<em>

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><p>It was sometime later, over what passed for dinner in the camp, and Catelyn had helped scrub her long-lost daughter's hair clean of black walnut hull, tea and whatever else had changed the color, that the topic of the strange benefactor had come up again.<p>

Sansa pushed her soup around with a spoon. "He's going to kill her." She whispered, without really meaning to bring down the conversation that had been eddying around her. "She refused to come with me so I could escape."

Catelyn put an arm around her daughter at the high table. "We'll pray to the gods to protect her. Lady Margaery was kind when I visited Lord Renly's camp."

Robb looked at his sister and wished he could take the haunted look from her eyes. "Maybe if you send a message back with her brother, she could find a way to follow you."

Sansa shook her head, taking a mechanical sip of rapidly cooling soup. "She said the entire City Watch and half the Kingsguard would be after us by morning if she left." She shook her head again, this time to try and clear her mind. "Some days she can barely move without wincing." She stared into the bowl. "Joffrey's a monster."

"If Stannis takes King's Landing…" Catelyn said, with an arm over her daughter's form.

"He'll put her to the sword too." Sansa pushed back from the table. "Twice a traitor, now. All because her father wants power. He wants to be a king instead of a steward. That's what Margaery says."

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><p><em>The prince turns on his father angrily. "Why did you deny the suit, Father?" He should be more respectful, but he's an angry boy speaking to his father, not a prince speaking to a king in that moment.<em>

_It's the king who scoffs, however. "You can do better than a steward's daughter, son." He smiled companionably. "She's fair I'll grant you, but there are fairer."_

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><p>"She'll find a way out if she's as clever as you claim." Robb said dismissively, trying to ignore the memories that had been following him all day. "She has to know we'd protect her for your sake. We owe her a debt."<p>

Sansa gave a jaded little laugh that disturbed all those in hearing, especially those who had known her for a long time. "She won't." She said, with a shake of her head. "She said there isn't room for two rose queens here." She swallowed hard. "I'm not sad to be back with you." She said, looking between her mother and brother. "I just...wish everyone I cared about would stop dying for me."

She pulled the locket from her pocket and sighed, excusing herself from the table. "I think I just need some rest. Things will be better in the morning."

"I'll take you back to the tent." Catelyn said, standing quickly,leaving Robb, Grey Wind and his quiet wife at the table, the King in the North deep in thought as he picked up the locket.


End file.
